


Mobbed

by Viridian5



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Action, Drama, Gen, Humor, Mission Fic, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-29
Updated: 2010-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dangers of doing business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mobbed

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers really, but post-_Glühen_. Thanks to Syvia and Rosaleendhu for pre-reading.
> 
> All things _Weiß Kreuz_ belong to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiß, Polygram k.k., and Animate Film. No infringement intended.

It turns out that one of our jobs pissed the Yakuza off.

They sent word through our message system demanding we meet with them, and while it pissed Brad off to receive so little respect he figured it would be wiser to try to talk things out first. He was _really_ pissed when the people sent there to meet us weren't terribly high up the Yakuza food chain, just little baby fish mobsters. How insulting. Plus, you couldn't really negotiate with underlings, who just do what their masters tell them.

The conversation that ensued with the "pleasantries" and euphemisms edited out:  
**Brad:** "We had no idea your organization would take offense from our actions. Be assured that it will not happen again."  
**Them:** "Not good enough, bitches. You have to die."  
**Brad:** "You should really reconsider that."  
**Them:** "Our higher-ups said so. Know that you will soon join your filthy _gaijin_ ancestors."  
**Brad:** "You should _really_ reconsider that."  
**Them:** "No, we keel j00, h00rz."  
**Brad, smiling:** "If you insist."

Then I ran at them at Schu-speed, disarmed them, and killed them with their own guns. Brad left them a note telling that these deaths will be enough to satisfy him over the insult the Yakuza did him, but we would kill many more if the Yakuza kept after us.

We're already packing stuff into our car just in case. Yakuza has no sense of humor.

* * *

That Yakuza thing blew up really big. Literally.

I was all casual sitting on my bed watching some wacky game show where folks were abusing themselves in ridiculous contests for yen when my window smashed and something hit the floor. I went from "Ha, Velcro wall and outfits" to "Explosive device!" in about three seconds. I sped up, picked it up, and lobbed it back through the window as I hard as I could, then ran like hell outside and closed the bedroom door behind me. I heard the BOOM when I was a step away from Brad's bedroom door and immediately started to smell things burning.

He was already packing his laptop and had his guns on. He tossed me a pair of house slippers since my bare feet were bleeding into everything. Fucking glass from the smashed window. I had small glass shards in my feet and my right hand but with my adrenaline pumping didn't even feel them. I put the slippers on and shot him a "Did you foresee this?" look that he answered with an annoyed scowl, which plainly meant "No." He shot me a "Work it, Schu" look, so I told him there were five mobsters in the lobby, two at the exit for the parking garage, and three coming up in the elevators. Hey, Tokyo is fucking big and chock full of people making noise. I'm not constantly checking our building just in case. Even Brad's paranoia isn't big enough to have me doing that 24/7.

Unwilling to entrust ourselves to the elevators, we took the stairs and mowed down a lot of thugs along the way through a judicious use of our telepathy and precognition. We nailed about three more in the parking garage on our way to our car. We'd already packed a lot of our essentials in it.

We'd left all kinds of shit behind us all over Europe, Asia, and the Americas over the years. It's just stuff. I had a hell of a lot of stuff in our Tokyo apartment due to us being there for years, but my life was more important, thanks, though I'd miss some of the clothes I hadn't gotten a chance to pack.

I got my guns out from under the seat. Brad saw me bleeding so he drove while I had a gun in my left hand--I'd learned how to shoot with my left hand as a wee Schu--and picked off the Yakuza at the garage exit. Since Brad wanted our car kept as nice as possible even now, he only ran over one corpse. Me, I would have backed over them. We raced out of the area, though not before I could see a burning helicopter lying in the street, showing me that I'd nailed them when I'd tossed that explosive back. Points to me.

Eventually Nagi flew in over our car, so we let him in, and being Nagi he pulled all the glass out of me with telekinesis and bandaged me up nicely too. Sweet boy. The Radio Free Schwarz link remained, although Farfarello's too far out of range for it. Nagi knew we'd become too hot to stay in Japan, but he said nothing about it, just squeezed my shoulder with his hand, which I squeezed back with my left hand. Brad was already calling in several plane tickets to different places under many different names to keep anyone following us guessing.

Of course, we couldn't leave without making our displeasure very clear. If we had to be too hot for Japan, we wanted to really earn it.

We killed 100 of the Yakuza, including two of the higher-ups, with a few explosions. Even better, we let them realize we'd trapped them in the building and let them sweat out wondering how we'd kill them. Mmm, 100 men in heart-pounding anxiety before they died screaming. There's a high for you, though the comedown could be toxic. Even amidst the honeyed pleasure of it, I felt a little sick. Too much at once, too rich, too... much, like gorging yourself at a French restaurant. Brad had to grab me by the arm and lead me around a bit until the drunkenness and nausea receded.

I gave Nagi a big hug and a friendly grope at the airport, promising him I'd visit. Brad let me sleep on the plane to London.

I'll miss Tokyo, to my surprise, but two of my former playthings are in London....

Too bad Brad would probably object to me living out one of my fantasies. I'd kidnap Aya's sister, bring her to England, gently kidnap Aya, drive them both to some flowery field in the middle of nowhere and put them at opposite ends, then yell, "Run, Aya, run!" when they woke up. That way Aya would get to see how useless Kritiker is and that it's better to keep her with him anyway. Plus, I'd get to watch them run at each other across a field of flowers. It's such a classic visual.

 

### End


End file.
